


i tried to talk with god to no avail

by EternalWhiteRose



Series: oasis [3]
Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Anxiety, Eating Disorders, M/M, Oops, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Tragedy, im so sorry, lots of triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-15 07:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalWhiteRose/pseuds/EternalWhiteRose
Summary: Shinji is a broken boy. But the angel of his dreams appears before him and there's a spark of hope blossoming in his chest. He forgets that God has long abandoned him, though.





	1. Ikari Shinji

**Author's Note:**

> second side story to: i cried the rain that fills the ocean wide  
> sequel to: catch the wheel that breaks the butterfly

In this life, Shinji is a broken boy.

He’s had these… _ memories  _ for as long as he can remember, but it’s never occurred to him until he was fifteen that they aren’t just some reoccurring dreams, but actual events that happened many, many years ago.

So, it’s very safe to say that Ikari Shinji breaks at the age of fifteen and doesn’t exactly know how to fix himself.

Now he’s twenty, living with a Misato that doesn’t remember anything in a shitty apartment in a shitty part of town. Across the hall is a very aware Ritsuko, who tries her best to get him back on two feet but he’s precariously still wobbling on one and has no reason to plant himself back in balance. There is a Kaji somewhere in the world too, but Shinji doesn’t know him personally—Misato instead brings him up in conversation every dinner or two. She once said that she doesn’t want to bring him around because of how fragile Shinji is.

And, the brunet supposes she has a point.

It’s like the aftermath of 2015-Kaworu’s death all over again. Shinji is starving himself, but not to the extremes, just enough so that he can punish himself for his sins. He constantly wears long clothes to cover the disgusting scars that mark his entire body; some caused by a knife (or any sort of sharp blade, really), others by a lighter and a few that were a little more… _ creative,  _ so to say. And he doesn’t joke when he says they’re everywhere, because they  _ are.  _ It’s amazing he still has a little room to hurt himself, but he’s starting to think that going over a few old, pale lines and circles isn’t such a terrible idea.

He ignores the looks he gets on the streets with everything his body can handle, tunes out their jeering voices with his music, because it’s not their business what he’s going through. They weren’t  _ there,  _ they weren’t piloting a giant  _ robot  _ against alien creatures. They didn’t  _ kill  _ the only person to ever love them in their  _ fist _ . He grits his teeth at the memory and curls his fingers into his palm so hard so the pain could reach his wrists.

There’s a muffled voice behind him and a tap on his shoulder. He’s ready to bitch at whatever person has decided to annoy him, but he pulls out one earphone as he turns to answer the offender. He stops, however, when his blue eyes land on the person and notices who they are. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t look very well.”

Oh, no. No, no, no,  _ no.  _ Shinji can feel his entire body go into flight mode; the automatic unwanted response to this situation that plagued his thoughts for years.  _ Kaworu’s _ red eyes are melancholic, and there’s no knowing flicker like Ritsuko had when Shinji brought up his past in them. Shinji takes a very careful step back, pulling on the wires of his earphones a little too hard, causing the other to pop out. “No, I’m—I’m actually fine, thank you. There isn’t a need—you don’t have to worry. I’m alright, I swear—I promise.”

Shinji can’t  _ ruin _ him again. “Please, I insist,” the albino presses on. “I would feel terrible if I didn’t at least…feed you, or—bandage whatever you have going on on your hand.”

The brunet looks down at his palm, where angry red crescent moons stare back at him, mockingly, as if cursing him. These hands don’t deserve to be anywhere near this Kaworu in front of him, because they’re hands that have killed him before and they’re hands that can sully him now. Kaworu doesn’t deserve any of it.

So when Kaworu reaches out, slow and careful, every single little move like a planned out attack, and takes one of Shinji’s bleeding hands into his, Shinji has to do everything to not let his knees buckle. Or, to snatch his hand away because Kaworu is too  _ beautiful  _ and too  _ pure  _ to be touching a mess like him. “Like I  _ said,”  _ Shinji tries again, gently pulling away but Kaworu’s hand tightens and Shinji stops struggling momentarily.

Kaworu doesn’t say anything, but his eyes do the talking, the same bloody red they’ve been in Shinji’s dreams. Shinji feels his heart weaken and the walls around it crumble even a little. “Alright,” he whispers, and Kaworu squeezes gently. “Okay.”

“I live on the other side of town,” Kaworu says softly, falling into step with Shinji easily when they begin walking. “Do you live near here? Ah—and my name, it’s Kaworu. Nagisa Kaworu.”

“Ikari Shinji.” It feels a little weird to have to introduce himself like this, but perhaps Kaworu hasn’t yet realized that it’s Shinji? After all, it took Shinji a while to realize that what he was seeing in his sleep were memories and not normal dreams. “And, yeah. Yeah, I live over—down the street.” He points in the direction of his apartment complex for good measure. “But, again, you don’t have to—it’s not necessary, I’m honestly… _ really  _ fine.”

“I don’t think you are,” Kaworu says with a soft smile, and Shinji almost falls to the ground at how  _ beautiful  _ it is. “I just…I’m aware this situation is a little weird, but I would very much like it if I knew you were alright.” He reaches up slowly, as if Shinji was a frightened kitten, and strokes his slightly protruding cheekbone. “Your face is so thin…”

Shinji, out of pure reflex, shakes his face away from the pale hand, midnight eyes meeting red. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, hands reaching for the strings of his black hoodie and tightening them, closing himself away from the world around him. Kaworu had  _ touched  _ him; touched a disgusting excuse for a human being. And Shinji  _ let  _ it happen. How pitiful. “I didn’t mean—“

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Shinji’s grip slacks and he looks at Kaworu. For a split second, he forgets how to breathe. “I understand. Sorta.”

The pair make it to Shinji’s apartment building, and the brunet pulls out his key to unlock the door, before cursing. “Fuck…I don’t know if my roommate is home or not. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…with her. She’s…a little, how should I say, extra? I don’t normally bring people over, so…”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Kaworu says, placing his hand over Shinji’s to finish unlocking the door. “After all, I approached you, a complete stranger, with a…let’s say  _ friendly  _ air with limited issue. I think I can handle an overbearing roommate.”

Shinji lets out a snort, covering his mouth at the ugly sound and looking up at Kaworu, whose smile doesn’t falter—instead it widens a fraction, and Shinji barely managed to catch himself when he smiles back. It’s a very intimate moment, Shinji admits. Too intimate for his liking, but at the same time, he can’t find anything wrong with it. The brunet pushes the heavy door open when the buzzer goes off, stepping inside with Kaworu hot on his heels.

Now that he’s inside, safe from the outside world and judging eyes, Shinji feels a wave of nervousness run over him. He has never, not since finding out about his past life, allowed anyone to break down the walls he built around himself. And he was standing here, in the lobby of his garbage apartment building, trying to regulate his breathing so he can remember his room number. Third floor, he tells himself as he straightens his back with a wince, feeling his ribs shift a bit, pulling against his already damaged skin. Room 307, he says to himself, as he gestures for Kaworu to follow him. “We would take the elevator,” he says as they pass it, instead heading for the staircase. “But I don’t exactly trust it. Last time I went on it, it made… _ weird  _ noises and I thought it was going to kill me.”

Kaworu doesn’t respond with words, instead he does it with a hum. One of Shinji’s hands slide into his sleeve and begins scraping blunt nails against the scars and cuts there, because he’s nervous and this is his habit, as much as he hates it. But Kaworu must notice because he, from behind Shinji on the stairs, gently puts a hand on his arm to stop him. And for some reason, where normally the gesture would freak Shinji out, it instead calms him down a bit. His hand leaves the sleeve in peace.

They make it to Shinji’s door in silence, and the brunet  _ prays  _ to the God that has abandoned him already that Misato  _ isn’t  _ home. He could care less if she’s at a bar this early or at Kaji’s—just anywhere  _ other  _ than here. He unlocks the door with a shaky hand and pushes it open to reveal a dark apartment. He was apparently blessed today because Misato can’t stand a dark apartment—meaning she left. Thank God. “Um…” He opens the door a little wider, mindful to pull his sleeve back down when it slides up a little. “This is my apartment. It’s not… _ much,  _ but it’s home. I guess.”

Kaworu steps in like an angel, practically gliding across the threshold and carefully toeing his shoes off to go further into the apartment. “Where is your bathroom?” he asks and Shinji is so surprised because he’s been silent this whole trip that he almost falls on his face while taking his nasty sneakers off.

“Down the hall. To your right. Second door.” All of Shinji’s instructions are coming out like jagged pieces of glass; sharp and small, but Kaworu understands them, probably because he’s perfection, and heads to the bathroom. Shinji takes this time to head to the kitchen and poke his head into the refrigerator. Kaworu said he was going to try and feed him, but there isn’t much apart from some instant ramen and beer. Because even in a different life, without her memories, Misato is the same as always.

He doesn’t hear Kaworu come back in. So he jumps when he feels a hand on his hip, right on the jutted bone, hitting his head on a shelf in the fridge as Kaworu quietly apologizes. Shinji looks up at him with wide eyes, and notices the little container with all his bandaging needs—plasters, antibacterial cream, medical tape. Kaworu must have snooped through the bathroom cabinet, but he  _ did  _ say he wanted to do something about Shinji’s hand.

“Take the sweater off.”

The brunet freezes as the refrigerator door softly closes. His mouth falls open in shock and he starts to shake his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—it’s a little chilly in here isn’t it?” He chuckles and wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to make his lie more believable. “Besides, it’s just my hands; there’s no need to take the whole sweater off.”

Stupid! Why hadn’t he put on an undershirt? In all honesty, the weather  _ was  _ getting a little warmer and Shinji was more comfortable in an oversized sweatshirt than a long sleeved shirt, but he should have chosen to endure the heat and put on a long sleeved shirt anyway! He backs into the counter when Kaworu approaches, reaching out to place the plastic bin on the countertop. His fingers curl on the hem of Shinji’s hoodie, and his eyes remain unchanged. “Shinji. Please.”

The brunet gives in, shoulders slumping, and Kaworu begins to pull upwards until the sweater is over Shinji’s head, baring his hideous body to the world. His ribs, protruding at every angle, expand when he breathes and his arms are stick thin, covered in pale scars and fresh cuts alike. His stomach is flat, also coated in the same art as his arms, and Kaworu takes all of this in, a pale hand slowly moving to touch Shinji’s chest gently, right over his heart. “Thank you,” he whispers, thumb gently rubbing against the brunet’s skin.

He then lets his hand drift down to Shinji’s arm, where he runs over every cut and scar, red eyes sad. “I knew there was more than just your hands. On the stairs—when I stopped you, I caught a look at your nails.” Shinji lifts his hand, and stares at the fingers. Underneath his nails, which were normally clean because he liked keeping his hands at least somewhat nice, is dried, crusted blood. “I only assumed from that. However, it seems as though my deduction was correct.” He turns the arm in his hands to get a good look at every inch. “This is… _ worse  _ than I would have imagined, though.”

Shinji winces at that.

“…I apologize, that was rude.” Kaworu lets go of Shinji’s arm and reaches for the cream. “I can’t bandage  _ everything,”  _ he says, looking more at Shinji’s arm than his hand, “because I didn’t see any gauze in your cabinet. But I will take care of your hands as promised.”

“Shall we move this to the living room?” Shinji asks, surprised at his own confidence that’s laced in his voice. “I mean—it would probably be much more comfortable than the kitchen. We can sit, and I can…make us some food? We don’t have much apart from instant ramen and beer. Misato doesn’t cook much, and frankly—honestly, neither do I.”

Kaworu strips off the denim jacket he has on and throws it over his arm, grabbing the basket. “Is that so? I’m not opposed to ramen, even if it’s instant. Is that alright with you?”

Shinji shrugs, his bones pulling against his skin in anger. “I’m sure you can tell already. I don’t eat…much.”

“Yes, but you’re eating while I’m here. No arguments,” he says with a wink.

Shinji flushes, and shyly sticks his tongue out. “Wasn’t planning on fighting with you about it.” He’s being so  _ calm  _ with Kaworu that it’s honestly kind of nerve wracking. This perfect human being is sitting in his apartment, on his couch, and Shinji had the guts to invite him in despite telling himself that he doesn’t deserve Kaworu’s kindness!

Shinji really hates himself right now. This whole situation is a mistake.

Kaworu sneaks up behind him again, that hand returning to his protruding hip bone and gently pushing the boy to the side, reaching across the counter to grab the teapot to fill it with water in the sink. Shinji stands awkwardly to the side. “Anything to drink?” Kaworu asks, fiddling with the electric stove.

“Nothing but beer,” Shinji replies, and Kaworu hums in response. “Misato—my roommate, that is, doesn’t drink anything else. I  _ guess  _ you could say she’s an alcoholic…”

Kaworu snorts, and then covers his mouth just as quickly as the sound escapes. He visibly flushes red and sort of shrinks into himself. Shinji watches this in awe. He’s never seen Kaworu do this, not even in their past life. Back then Kaworu was a very poised individual, who rarely messed anything up. Everything was done deliberately, to the point of absolute perfection. Perhaps that was why Shinji originally fell in love with him. “I’m sorry, that was rude—and quite embarrassing if I do say so,” Kaworu says, removing the hand from his mouth. “I’m sure your roommate isn’t as bad as you say.”

“Oh, she is,” Shinji insists. “She and I are such polar opposites. We met when I was in high school. She...she was my school counselor, and thought that my living with my father wasn’t good for me. And, really, it _ wasn’t. _ So I am thankful for her taking me in without me having to pay a fee. I just clean and cook and do all the chores and she’s satisfied.” Shinji shrugs.

“I see,” Kaworu says softly as he takes the teapot off of the stove top. “Where’s the ramen?”

Shinji jumps to attention and moves quickly to the cabinet that’s filled with ramen cups, taking two out and placing them on the counter. He rips the protective seal off of them and watches as Kaworu pours the boiling water into the styrofoam cups, covering them back up with a pair of chopsticks to let them cool and let the water mix with the various ingredients. Kaworu looks back at Shinji, and Shinji takes in a deep breath. “I feel as though I have been born to meet you,” he says, meeting Kaworu’s red eyes.

Kaworu simply smiles, with no flicker of recognition at Shinji’s words. Those were the words that Kaworu said to him all those years ago. Any possible thought of Kaworu remembering but having the memories repressed for some strange reason goes out the window. Kaworu doesn’t remember, and Shinji can feel his entire world just crash and burn. “Really? That’s sweet, Shinji,” Kaworu says, his pointer finger running up the side of the styrofoam to catch a drop of condensation. He turns back to the brunet and his faint smile fades. “Is something the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You don’t remember,” Shinji says, covering his scarred body as he hugs himself tightly. “You don’t remember me.”

“I don’t believe I understand what you mean.”

The brunet laughs to himself, the sound more forced than he intended it to be. He backs away from the albino when he approaches. “I should have seen this coming...you don’t remember a thing? From 2015? The EVAs? The Angels?  _ Nothing?”  _

Kaworu looks at Shinji with frightened eyes. “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about. Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? Am I  _ alright?!  _ Of course I’m not!” Shinji breaks down, tears falling down his face at a rapid pace. “The love of my life, my fucking  _ soulmate  _ doesn’t remember me and you’re asking if I’m alright? After all we’ve been through and how much I’ve suffered this lifetime thinking about what I did to you so long ago...I can’t  _ believe  _ this.”

Kaworu tries to approach the panicking boy with his arms outstretched. “Shinji, just try to calm down.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

_ “Get out!”  _ Shinji screams, reaching for whatever he can that’s within armsreach, which happens to be a box of cereal, and throws it at Kaworu, running into the living room. “Leave me alone!” He begins throwing whatever he can get his hands on, not caring if it actually hits Kaworu or not. “I hate you!”

“ _ Shinji _ , what is going on—?” Kaworu ducks as a potted plant flies over his head, the pot breaking when it makes contact with the wall behind him. “Please, help me understand what you’re talking about!”

“No!” the brunet curls in on himself and tries to jerk away when he feels Kaworu’s hands on himself. But Kaworu’s stronger than he looks given his lanky build, and Shinji’s not the strongest person because he has no muscles on his bones whatsoever.

“Shinji, I’m begging you. If you don’t help me understand what you’re talking about I can’t help you in return like I promised.”

Shinji stops struggling. “You want to help me? Here’s how you can help me.” In this moment of relaxation, he breaks free of Kaworu’s hold and points at the front door. “Leave.”

Kaworu’s jaw clenches, and he reaches a hand to try and touch Shinji again, but the brunet won’t have it, and he backs away. Shinji watches as the albino huffs and turns around, leaving the apartment with a slam of the door, loud enough to make Shinji wince. He wraps his arms around him and cries out loudly, kicking the side of the couch. He notices the jean jacket that Kaworu had left behind, taking it and pushing it to his nose. It smells amazing, and Shinji begins to cry because he just lost what was probably the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. He falls to his knees and sobs out loud, still being careful about not getting his disgusting snot all over Kaworu’s jacket. He hates himself more than he has ever hated himself before.

He stands back up and with the jacket still held tightly to his chest, he walks to the kitchen, opening a drawer near the sink and taking out the biggest knife. He looks at it briefly, before pressing the blade to his neck.

The door opens, it’s Misato. He panics momentarily, and hears her running in his direction, clearly not bother to take off her shoes.

He’s not cleaning her mess. She can clean something for once. He presses the knife harder and the slides it from right to left.

“ _ Shinji!” _


	2. Nagisa Kaworu

In hindsight, Kaworu doesn’t really know what draws him in to the hooded figure that’s walking a ways in front of him on the sidewalk. Hell, he doesn’t even know how he got into this shady neighborhood! Rei often told him that he spaces out a lot, to the point where an earthquake probably wouldn’t even wake him up, and he always fought back because there’s no way she could be right. It’s such a ridiculous claim.

Well, now the claim is a little more realistic, he admits as he follows the boy down the street. His...target? (God, that makes it sound like Kaworu’s a stalker) is wearing an oversized hoodie, which normally isn’t a problem, but it’s late spring—closer to summer, actually. And in Tokyo-3, summer was a huge ball of humidity and sweat. The last thing  _ anyone  _ would be caught wearing would be a sweater. And yet here this kid was, hands shoved in his pockets, back slouched, walking down the street,  _ in the sun. _

Kaworu is dying in his denim jacket but that’s because his denim jacket is a fashion statement. Denim on denim never died in his mind. It’s still  _ cool,  _ no matter what Asuka says.

He follows this boy until he can’t take it anymore. He quickens his stride and taps him on the shoulder with a very soft, “Um…” The boy visibly stiffens and turns on his heel, and Kaworu takes in a short breath at how gaunt his face looks. He rips one earphone out that Kaworu can faintly hear classical music coming out of, and his eyes are wide in surprise. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t look very well.”

The brunet--Kaworu can just barely see his hair under the black hood—takes a step back and rips the other earphone out when he pulls the wire. Kaworu doesn’t really understand why he’s so scared, it certainly can’t be because of his outfit, right? “No, I’m—I’m actually fine, thank you. There isn’t a need—you don’t have to worry. I’m alright, I swear—I promise,” he stutters out, and that only further confirms Kaworu’s suspicion that, no, this kid isn’t alright. He’s lying right out of his teeth.

So Kaworu stretches out his hand. “Please, I insist. I would feel terrible if I didn’t at least…feed you, or—” he looks down and notices the small injuries on the palm of his hand— “bandage whatever you have going on on your hand.”

The brunet himself looks down as if he hadn’t realized that he was doing that to himself, and Kaworu takes this opportunity to slowly, as though this boy was a wild animal, take his hand gently. They’re bony, and extremely cold, as though the blood wasn’t getting to them. His sleeve catches slightly and Kaworu can just barely see a couple more wounds—but those look more like cuts and it scares him. “Like I  _ said.”  _ The brunet tries to snatch his hand away, and his sleeve falls back into the place with the movement, but Kaworu doesn’t let go. He wants to help this stranger because he’s a good person and that’s what good people do.

Kaworu just looks at him, doesn’t say a word, and it’s as though the boy kind of melts with how much his body relaxes. “Alright.” Kaworu squeezes his hand in encouragement. “Okay,” the brunet whispers.

He starts walking, and Kaworu very quickly speeds his normal step up to keep up. He must naturally walk fast. “I live on the other side of town,” Kaworu says. “Do you live near here?” Oh, he forgot to introduce himself. They’ve been standing on this sidewalk for a while now, and neither knows the other’s name. “Ah—and my name, it’s Kaworu. Nagisa Kaworu.”

“Ikari Shinji. And, yeah. Yeah, I live over—down the street.” Shinji points down the street toward a group of old buildings. A pretty shady part of town, but then again, Kaworu was already walking in this area. “But, again, you don’t have to—it’s not necessary, I’m honestly… _ really  _ fine.”

“I don’t think you are. I just…” he reaches up and scratches at the back of his head. “I’m aware this situation is a little weird, but I would very much like it if I knew you were alright. Your face is so thin…” he runs his knuckles against the side of the brunet’s face, right over the protruding cheekbone.

Shinji jumps away suddenly, surprising Kaworu. He pulls on the strings of his hoodie, hiding his face from the world. Kaworu finds this to be adorable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t mean to. I understand.” He hesitates, because he really doesn’t understand. “Sorta.”

Shinji leads them to his apartment building, going up the stairs to unlock the door. He looks nervous as he inserts the key, but Kaworu just chocks the up to the fact that he’s basically bringing a stranger to his home. Anyone would be scared or nervous. “Fuck…” he whispers when he pulls his keys out, nothing more special than a pair of keys on a keyring. “I don’t know if my roommate is home or not. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… with her. She’s…a little, how should I say, extra? I don’t normally bring people over, so…”

Kaworu chuckles softly. So Shinji is more afraid of what his roommate will do rather than bringing Kaworu inside. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He reaches out and helps Shinji when he notices that the brunet is having trouble opening the door. “After all, I approached you, a complete stranger, with a…let’s say  _ friendly  _ air with limited issue. I think I can handle an overbearing roommate.”

Shinji lets out a snort, and in that split second, Kaworu’s entire world brightened up. Even as Shinji covers his mouth with a bright blush, Kaworu thinks he’s the cutest thing in the world. He smiles a little wider, and then again when Shinji smiles back behind his hand. The door buzzes, and the two file into the building. Kaworu is a little surprised that Shinji could open the heavy door being as skinny as he is. “We would take the elevator,” Shinji says as they turn away from it, heading for what Kaworu assumes is the main staircase instead. “But I don’t exactly trust it. Last time I went on it, it made… _ weird  _ noises and I thought it was going to kill me.”

Kaworu shudders. He’s lucky he’s never really been a fan of elevators anyway. He does hum to let Shinji know that he’s heard his reasoning, and then the two of them continue to Shinji’s apartment in relative silence. While they’re going up the second flight of stairs, Kaworu notices that Shinji’s hand has escaped up the opposite sleeve and it scraping the skin there. And Kaworu knows that there are cuts there from his brief view earlier and he can’t have Shinji opening them up anymore. So he reaches up, like he’s already done so many times before in such a short span of time, and takes Shinji’s arm—his skinny, mostly bones arm, based on what Kaworu could feel through the sleeve of his sweater—to stop him. And Shinji does stop, without a fight. His hand leaves the sleeve.

They stop at a door—room 307, Kaworu takes note—and Shinji once again takes out his keyring to get the other key to unlock the door. He opens the door slowly, looking around the entry foyer of the dark apartment, and releases a deep breath. He opens the door a little more for Kaworu to step in. Kaworu catches him pulling down his sleeve when it rolls up a bit. “Um...This is my apartment. It’s not… _ much,  _ but it’s home. I guess.”

Kaworu steps in, saying a quick ‘Excuse me for intruding’ under his breath as he toes his shoes off. “Where is your bathroom?” he asks, and it must have been a surprise because Shinji jumps a little while he’s taking his beat-up sneakers off.

“Down the hall. To your right. Second door.” Kaworu doesn’t comment on the robotic-like quality of the instructions, instead he heads into the bathroom, turning on the light to see the neat room. He opens the cabinet above the sink, intent on finding at least some sort of first aid-kit. And he finds a basket filled with bandages and creams and smiles as he takes it down from the top shelf. There’s no gauze, which would be good for Shinji’s arms, especially if they’re still bleeding. But he’ll have to make due. He only promised that he would fix up Shinji’s palms, anyway.

He leaves the bathroom and passes by a door with Shinji’s name hanging on a tag nailed to it. Shinji’s room, obviously, and while Kaworu was enough of a snoop to go through Shinji’s bathroom in search for a first-aid kit, he isn’t about to go searching in the brunet’s room. That’s pushing over the line.

He finds his way into the kitchen and sees Shinji bending over looking into the fridge, so he approaches Shinji, silent on socked feet, and places a hand on his hip. Shinji startles, hitting his head on a fridge shelf. “I’m sorry,” Kaworu whispers when the brunet turns his head to look up at him. “Take the sweater off.”

It looks as though Kaworu was just caught red-handed murdering Shinji’s beloved pet. His jaw slacks and he starts to laugh nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—it’s a little chilly in here isn’t it?” He wraps his arms around himself and Kaworu raises an eyebrow. It’s closer to summer than it is to spring, and even  _ if  _ the air conditioning is working in the building, it’s not cold. Not in the slightest. “Besides, it’s just my hands; there’s no need to take the whole sweater off.”

Kaworu approaches Shinji, backing him into the counter. He places the basket next to the brunet, and then takes hold of the hem of the sweater. “Shinji. Please.” He’s not fighting because there’s no reason to fight.

(That, and he doesn’t want to.)

And thankfully, Shinji gives up with little resistance. He allows Kaworu to pull the sweater off, to see the damage, to break down whatever walls he had up. His torso is so thin, and Kaworu bites his lip when he sees Shinji’s arm, coated in scars of various sizes and shapes. Clearly some are cuts, some are burn scars, some are scratches that look like jagged thunderbolts. And if he looks carefully enough he can see the same thing going on down on Shinji’s flat belly. He places a hand on Shinji’s chest, right over his heart, and takes in a deep breath at the feeling of the beats. “Thank you,” he whispers, because he knows that this couldn’t have been easy for the brunet.

He gently lets his fingers trace over the scars on Shinji’s arms and takes in a breath through his nose. “I knew there was more than just your hands. On the stairs—when I stopped you, I caught a look at your nails.” As he says that, Shinji looks down at his hands, eyes widening at the bloody crescents on the skin of his palms. “I only assumed from that. However, it seems as though my deduction was correct.” Kaworu turns Shinji’s arm, taking in the sight, his heart sinking into his stomach. This boy was so badly damaged. “This is… _ worse  _ than I would have imagined, though.”

When he looks up from beneath the curtain of his bangs, he catches Shinji’s wince, and immediately feels bad.

“…I apologize, that was rude.” Kaworu turns, so he doesn’t have to look at Shinji’s hurt face, and goes for the anti-bacterial cream. He glances at Shinji’s arm, squeezing a small drop onto his fingers. “I can’t bandage  _ everything,  _ because I didn’t see any gauze in your cabinet. But I will take care of your hands as promised.”

“Shall we move this to the living room?” Kaworu startles at the sudden confidence in the timid brunet’s tone. “I mean—it would probably be much more comfortable than the kitchen.” Ah, there’s the nervousness again. Looks like Shinji’s confidence doesn’t last too long, but that’s fine. He’s charming in that way. “We can sit, and I can…make us some food? We don’t have much apart from instant ramen and beer. Misato doesn’t cook much, and frankly—honestly, neither do I.”

Kaworu takes off his denim jacket— _ finally,  _ and he has to do his best to not moan in happiness at the loss of the extra heat. Denim on denim hasn’t died, he reminds himself—and throws it over his arm, grabbing the basket off of the counter. For a split second, he feels like a house-husband. “Is that so? I’m not opposed to ramen, even if it’s instant. Is that alright with you?”

Shinji shrugs, and Kaworu eyes his pulling skin. “I’m sure you can tell already. I don’t eat…much.”

“Yes, but you’re eating while I’m here. No arguments,” Kaworu says, throwing in a wink before turning around and heading into the living room.

“Wasn’t planning on fighting with you about it,” Shinji replies, and Kaworu chuckles a little, gently placing his jacket on the arm of the couch and the basket on the coffee table. He looks around the living room, taking in the clean floor and organized bookshelf. It has to be the work of Shinji. He notices on object seemingly out of place at the end of the top shelf--a plain black binder, with no label on the binding. For a moment, he wonders why this binder is sitting with all the books, but he’s already snooped enough.

He instead returns to the kitchen, where Shinji still hasn’t put his sweater back on--good--and is rummaging around the counter top. He steps forward and places a hand on that same hip bone, but Shinji doesn’t jump that bad this time. The albino nudges the brunet to the side and grabs the teapot by the wall to fill it with water under the sink. Without looking at Shinji, he asks, “Anything to drink?” and begins to fiddle with the stove, which is electric. He still lives in an old, traditional house. Everything is gas there, what the hell is this electric crap?

“Nothing but beer,” Shinji replies, and Kaworu hums in response. He should have remembered from when Shinji told him earlier, but memory is a fickle thing. “Misato—my roommate, that is, doesn’t drink anything else. I  _ guess  _ you could say she’s an alcoholic…”

Kaworu can’t help himself at how  _ blunt  _ Shinji was with saying that so in an attempt to stifle his laughter he snorts instead, just like Shinji had earlier, and in a similar fashion he slaps a hand over his mouth in shame. His face is burning, and with Shinji looking at him with wide eyes like he’s sure the brunet is doing, the blush is sure to never go away. “I’m sorry, that was rude—and quite embarrassing if I do say so.” He calms down a little. “I’m sure your roommate isn’t as bad as you say.”

“Oh, she is,” Shinji says, and it takes everything for Kaworu to not snort again because the boy is so adamant about his roommate’s apparent shittiness that it’s ridiculously cute. “She and I are such polar opposites. We met when I was in high school. She...she was my school counselor, and thought that my living with my father wasn’t good for me. And, really, it _ wasn’t. _ So I am thankful for her taking me in without me having to pay a fee. I just clean and cook and do all the chores and she’s satisfied.” He ends the explanation with a shrug.

Kaworu reaches to take the teapot off of the stove top when it starts whistling. “I see. Where’s the ramen?”

Shinji bustles in a cabinet and produces two ramen cups and pulls the tabs to remove the seals and Kaworu pours the water into the styrofoam cups. There’s a comfortable silence, and when Kaworu places a pair of chopsticks on each cup to trap the heat, he looks back at the brunet, who says, slowly, “I feel as though I have been born to meet you.”

And Kaworu thinks that’s an adorable thing to say, even if they had just met. “Really? That’s sweet, Shinji,” he says, and he means it, because it  _ is  _ an incredibly sweet thing to say to a stranger. But when he turns back, he thinks that he must have said something wrong, because Shinji’s fact has completely drained of color, and he’s still. “Is something the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You don’t remember,” Shinji replies as he hugs himself tightly. Kaworu’s head spins. “You don’t remember me.”

Well, of course not, Kaworu thinks. He’s only just met the boy today. So he expresses his confusion in the lightest way he can. “I don’t believe I understand what you mean.”

The brunet lets out a forced laugh that looks like it physically hurts him with the way his body convulses. Kaworu can clearly see the hysteria setting in, and has to hurry to calm the boy down. “I should have seen this coming...you don’t remember a thing? From 2015? The EVAs? The Angels?  _ Nothing?”  _

And now Shinji has completely lost Kaworu with all this nonsense. 2015? Does Shinji realize what year it is now? 2015 was such a long time ago that the only relevant thing about it was the Near Third Impact. And beyond that...EVAs? Angels? What is he even babbling about?

Shinji is looking at Kaworu with terrified eyes when Kaworu calmly responds, “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about. Are you alright?”

Ah, and there’s the breakdown, in the form of tears and an obvious episode of screaming. Kaworu should have seen this coming with how damaged Shinji was already.“Am I alright? Am I  _ alright?!  _ Of course I’m not! The love of my life, my fucking  _ soulmate  _ doesn’t remember me and you’re asking if I’m alright? After all we’ve been through and how much I’ve suffered this lifetime thinking about what I did to you so long ago...I can’t  _ believe  _ this.”

Soul...mate? Now Shinji has really lost it. There’s no such thing as soulmates. Maybe some people in the world are more drawn together than others but actually being soulmates isn’t a thing. Never was. But Shinji clearly believes in it so Kaworu has to tread carefully. He doesn’t want a worse explosion.

He approaches carefully, opening his arms, keeping his voice level. “Shinji, just try to calm down.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

_ “Get out!”  _ Kaworu dodges an oncoming box of cereal, watching in shock as it hits the wall and spills the oats all over the counter. He barely catches the tail end of Shinji escaping into the living room, and runs to follow. “Leave me alone!” Kaworu ducks and moves out of the way of every item that flies towards his head, trying to get closer to the source of the meltdown. “I hate you!”

Shinji hates him? But they were getting along just fine! “ _ Shinji _ , what is going on—?” His sentence is cut off as a potted plant narrowly misses his face, crashing into the wall behind him. That was  _ far  _ too close for comfort. “Please, help me understand what you’re talking about!”

“No!” Kaworu gets his hands on Shinji and tries to keep him still, but the boy struggles. This is the only moment that Kaworu is glad Shinji has no muscles because it’s easier to keep him from getting away. It’s a terrible thing to think, but it’s helping him with Shinji.

“Shinji, I’m begging you. If you don’t help me understand what you’re talking about I can’t help you in return like I promised.”

Shinji stills, and Kaworu relaxes his grip. Perhaps this is finally over. “You want to help me? Here’s how you can help me.” With a jerk of his shoulder, he gets away from Kaworu and stumbles over the mess he created to the door. He was not going to kick Kaworu out over this, was he? “Leave.”

Kaworu straightens his back and tightens his jaw, understanding that Shinji truly wanted him gone now. He reaches out, one last time, but Shinji sees it and backs up to the wall, covering his face. He huffs and storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, not caring if it angers the neighbors anymore than they already have or not. It’s only when he’s halfway to the staircase (even if Shinji lost his mind, he heeds his warning about the elevator) that he realizes he left his jacket on the couch, untouched by the panic. Briefly, he thinks about returning but he’s stopped by a woman with her arms fulls of groceries almost bumping into him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, and brushes past him quickly.

He doesn’t look back to watch which apartment she goes into—it’s none of his business at first, but when she hears the screech of  _ “Shinji!”  _ then his feet are running back down the hall, back to the thrown open door 307. The bags are all littered at the doorway, and he looks up to find his denim jacket no longer on the couch arm, and follows the mess back into the kitchen, where the woman is crouching over a bloody mess, crying hysterically and sobbing into her cell phone. She looks behind her at his sudden gasp and narrows her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Nagisa Kaworu,” he replies breathlessly, eyes focusing on the jacket in the boy’s arms and the knife on the floor by his hand. “I’m—I was his friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one-or-two shot will be the last of oasis! dont know when i'll have it done, but i'll work on it as soon as i can

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry yall  
> im so sorry  
> feel free to attack shinji so i can protect him  
> second chapter will HOPEFULLY be done by next monday


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